


say my name and everything just stops

by tmylm



Series: itch to scratch [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Shower Sex, Smut, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Prompt fill forshaneythealphawolf: Chloe borrows Beca's laptop and finds a little naughty video of Beca taking care of an itch moaning Chloe's name.Thank you for the prompt!
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: itch to scratch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908526
Comments: 26
Kudos: 225





	say my name and everything just stops

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift's _Dress_.

Of course this has to happen right now. Like it wasn’t enough that her all time favorite artist’s album drop had been delayed during production, adding weeks onto the eventual release date, but now _this_?

Months… Literal _months_ Chloe has waited for these tickets to go on sale. A jobless college student, Chloe is savvy with her finances, she doesn’t generally spend money on things that aren’t necessities, but this is something of a tradition for her. She has never missed a single tour (some eras even attending multiple shows where possible). It is her one real indulgence, so for her laptop to essentially break the second she goes to load up the ticket site, it really is incredibly inopportune.

“Are you kidding me?” Chloe hisses quietly, worried expression painting itself across her pale features as she frantically jams her finger onto the power button again.

Unfortunately, it does nothing—so much for turning it off and turning it back on again, huh?—so Chloe is left to simply whine petulantly, before pushing her now useless computer aside. She can’t miss out on these tickets; this can’t be the first tour Chloe doesn’t get to attend.

Fueled by determination, by the faithful fan girl that resides within her, Chloe slides her body quickly from the mattress, feet almost falling over one another in her desperate haste to climb the stairs to Beca and Amy’s attic bedroom. Instantly, she notes that Amy’s side of the room is empty, while Beca’s bed is covered in a messy pile of discarded clothing. It is something Chloe would normally look at almost wistfully, but right now, it only serves as a barrier between her and the laptop peeking out from beneath a crinkled shirt.

“Hey, Bec!” Chloe calls over the sound of the shower stream from the adjoining bathroom. Already, she has plopped down onto Beca’s bed, pushing the clothing items aside and lifting the lid of her MacBook. “I’m using your laptop, okay?”

Muffled by the sound of flowing water, Chloe doesn’t hear Beca’s response. In fact, she doesn’t even know if Beca has properly heard her, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Beca’s laptop actually _works_ , something Chloe notes as the screen immediately lights up with precious, hopeful life.

“Thank God,” Chloe murmurs quietly, instantly punching in Beca’s password—it is fortunate that she remembers it from that one time before—and clicking quickly on the Chrome icon.

At least, she _means_ to click on Chrome… Beca has so many icons lining the bottom bar, a good majority of which are likely music editing software that Chloe doesn’t completely understand how to use, that they are all kind of packed in together by this point. So, it is not intentional, the way Chloe instead loads up _Photo Booth_. She didn’t know anybody even used Photo Booth anymore.

She is about to close out of it, in fact, annoyed to have wasted even more precious time, until the first thumbnail catches her eye.

It is innocent enough; Beca, sitting in front of the screen, full head and shoulders in view of the camera. It is most likely a video of Beca singing, something Chloe gets cherished, live viewings of whenever Beca is deep in concentration and doesn’t realize she is quietly singing along to whatever new mix she may be working on. Really, Chloe should ignore it, especially because she is only prolonging the time it is taking to acquire her tickets, and the longer she leaves it, the less likely it is that there will be any decent seats available, but Chloe has never been able to resist Beca’s singing. In fact, she has never really been able to resist _Beca_. So, Chloe decides that she can spare another minute or two, just for a quick, harmless preview of Beca’s video.

The first thing Chloe notes, as the video begins to play, is the unmistakable look of nerves displaying plainly across Beca’s face. There is something incredibly cute about it, about Beca being so nervous to perform. Chloe’s head tilts as she takes in the view, gentle smile easing onto her lips in response to the sight of arguably her favorite person.

It doesn’t so much fade as it does switch entirely into a jaw dropped, open mouthed gawk as Beca wordlessly moves back from the camera, and Chloe sees that she is seated in pretty much the exact same place as Chloe currently sits, wearing nothing on her lower half.

“Oh, whoa…” Chloe yelps dumbly, instinctively looking away from the screen. This...whatever it is...she should not be looking at it. It is evidently not the innocent singing video Chloe had assumed she’d be met with, so with a fumbly finger, she attempts to close down the application.

She does. She really, really does. But, as Chloe’s wandering gaze flickers back toward the video, just in time to see Beca’s hand disappearing underneath the loose fabric of her shirt, she realizes that she just...can’t.

And this is not okay. In fact, it is a literal invasion of privacy—perhaps no more so than when Chloe let herself into Beca’s shower that one time, but still—so, Chloe should not be watching. She should not be watching the way Beca’s thighs part in plain view of the camera, nor the way her body seems to tremble slightly as her palm cups at her breast beneath the fabric of her shirt, but she literally cannot tear her eyes away.

Chloe watches for longer than she should. Despite the fact that her mind is screaming at her to _turn it off! Turn it off, this is not for your eyes!_ , she admittedly watches as the video progresses. She watches as Beca’s free hand slips between her parted thighs. Her mouth hangs open in disbelief as Chloe watches Beca’s middle finger slide so easily over what she can only assume from Beca’s whimper in response is a very sensitive clit.

In turn, Chloe’s thighs clench tightly together, her teeth sinking down harshly into her bottom lip. And Chloe knows she has seen too much already; she is watching a video—a _private_ video—of Beca literally fucking herself, and while it is a sight Chloe has fantasized about on numerous occasions before now, she _knows_ how messed up this is.

“Enough,” she finally whispers, voice coming out with the kind of slight tremor Chloe almost feels embarrassed about. It is not until she scrolls, this time with definite intent to close out of the video window, that she hears the first word spill from Beca’s lips amidst her series of quiet, gentle moaning sounds.

 _“Fuck,”_ Beca breathes unsteadily, the pace of her fingers picking up as they slide from inside of her dripping center and instead drag over her now neglected clit, _“Fuck, Chloe.”_

This time, Chloe’s eyes widen for a whole new reason.

The thought that she may have misheard doesn’t even get the chance to enter her mind, not before Beca is moaning her name again, this time a little more clearly.

It is like a fire—a fire of total and utter lust, of course—has suddenly ignited deep within Chloe’s very core. Her stomach tenses, legs clenching, as she closes the laptop’s lid without even bothering to exit out of the video.

For three years now, Chloe has wanted Beca Mitchell. Sometimes, she even gets the feeling that maybe Beca wants her, too. Sometimes, Beca will look at her with a slightly darkened gaze, she’ll stare at her a little too long when their hands graze, whether intentionally or not. Sometimes, Chloe will part her fingers, and Beca’s will slip so perfectly between the gaps, and Chloe thinks that maybe, just maybe, Beca could want her, too.

It is that thought, mixed with the mental image of the video she has just witnessed, the one in which Beca moaned her name more than once, that has Chloe rising confidently from the bed, uncharacteristically shaky legs carrying her toward the bathroom door.

Beca is not paying attention to her. In fact, her faint silhouette through the shower curtain hints to Chloe that she may be busy shampooing her hair, and it is clear she hasn’t even heard the sound of the door opening, but Chloe can’t leave now. She should, of course, but she can’t.

“How many Chloes do you know?”

“What? Dude!” Beca yelps in return, “I’m taking a shower!”

“How many Chloes do you know?” Chloe repeats, this time a little more impatiently. She hears the sound of taps creaking, before the water abruptly cuts off.

“Just you!” Beca responds, voice entirely flustered. “Chloe, I’m literally nude right now.”

“There’s a curtain covering you,” Chloe says with a brief wave of her hand, as if that suddenly makes her interrupting Beca’s shower—not for the first time—okay.

“Right… But—” Beca cuts herself off, and Chloe can picture the way she shakes her head in disbelief, despite the fact that she cannot actually see her. “What are you doing in here?”

“I saw your video.”

There is a pause this time, one in which the air, cloaked in a thick blanket of steam from the previously hot shower water, grows momentarily still. “What video?” Beca finally questions, her voice much higher pitched than its usual tone.

“Your video,” Chloe says again. “The one on your computer.”

Another pause precedes Beca saying in that same hitch pitched voice, words somewhat shaky, “Uh... I don’t—” she swallows loudly, evidently deciding to deflect instead. “What were you doing on my computer?”

“Mine isn’t working,” Chloe begins to explain, this time in something of a more gentle, somehow more understanding tone. “I wanted to book tickets for Taylor’s tour…” As she speaks, Chloe slowly shuffles forward. It is without thought really, the way she edges more closely toward the shower. Beca doesn’t respond, so Chloe asks somewhat cautiously, “Bec, can I come in?”

“To the shower?” Beca squeaks. She doesn’t say yes, nor does she say no, so Chloe waits quietly, staring intently at the damp shower curtain. She hears Beca shuffling around slightly, before letting out a meek sounding, “Mhm.”

Slowly, Chloe reaches out a hand—it is shakier than she had realized—toward the curtain, until she can cautiously peel it back. It is not just because Beca has one arm wrapped around her chest, the other hand covering between her legs, that Chloe manages to meet her gaze, rather than allow her eyes to roam down Beca’s body. “I’m the Chloe you were…” she trails off, shoulder shrugging softly, “Right?”

In response, Beca’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, cheeks reddening more obviously than Chloe will point out. “I… Chlo, can we not do this right now?”

Despite the fact that Chloe is wearing socks with her pajamas, and that the bottom of the tub is pooling with soapy water, she takes a step into the shower, and Beca stares at her with wide, semi-surprised eyes. Although she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t verbally respond to Chloe’s question, eventually, Beca softly nods her head.

As she’d been watching the video, taking in the sight of Beca touching herself the way she was, the thoughts running through her mind had not exactly been _soft_ ones—even less so when she’d heard the sound of Beca moaning her name so beautifully. Right now, though, despite the unmistakable heat spreading wildly between her legs, there is something else drawing Chloe in, something deeper pulling her closer. Beca just watches her, arm covered chest rising and falling a little faster, until Chloe’s fingers reach out to clutch at a damp hip, easily tugging Beca’s body closer toward her own. It is almost seamless, the way her lips crash against Beca’s, and despite the prior look of uncertainty on Beca’s face, there is no hesitation behind the way Chloe feels her instantly beginning to kiss her back.

Arm slipping along Beca’s smooth, damp skin, Chloe’s hand finally settles against Beca’s lower back, her free hand reaching down between them to gently pull Beca’s hand from where it rests protectively between her legs. Beca doesn’t stop her; instead, she lifts the same arm until she can curl it cautiously around Chloe’s neck. It almost surprises Chloe, the fact that Beca is the one to press her body more firmly against Chloe’s, and to instinctively deepen their kiss.

“What is happening right now?” Beca whispers against Chloe’s lips amidst an eventual, necessary break for air.

Rather than respond, Chloe simply parts her lips, gently taking Beca’s bottom lip between her teeth. Beca doesn’t fight her, and instead tightens the arm wrapped around Chloe’s neck, the one covering her chest now falling, too. Chloe’s free hand, the one not resting against Beca’s back, drops toward Beca’s thigh, until she can lift it to rest against her own hip. Again, Beca doesn’t stop her.

Almost experimentally, mostly to check that Beca is even actually okay with all of this, Chloe’s fingers slide around Beca’s damp thigh, releasing their grip. Beca has the opportunity to lower her leg if she wants to, Chloe definitely will not stop her, but she doesn’t. It stays where it is, resting against Chloe’s hip, so Chloe takes it as silent permission to go on.

Feather lightly, her fingertips dance over Beca’s water-dotted skin until they are resting against her lower stomach. Chloe feels the way Beca’s body tenses slightly, so instinctively pauses to pull back and take in the expression on her face.

Just like Chloe, Beca is breathless already. Her chest is moving faster, more obviously, and she stares up at Chloe through slightly hooded lids. Wordlessly, and almost surprisingly to Chloe, Beca nods her head, so Chloe allows her fingers to explore the way she wants to. This time, as her fingers dip between Beca’s parted legs, Chloe pushes her kiss-swollen lips to the damp skin of Beca’s slightly tilted jaw. The soapy taste of her skin truly does not deter Chloe as she begins to push soft, calculated kisses right the way down toward Beca’s neck. In turn, Beca’s head tilts slightly further, and Chloe feels the vibration of a soft whimper against her lips as two fingers begin to push through sensitive folds.

“I wanna hear my name again,” Chloe breathes, words muffled by Beca’s skin as her fingers begin to stroke over Beca’s already swollen clit. Already, she has begun to miss the taste of Beca’s lips against her own, so it is like something of a relief once Beca tips her face to reconnect them, almost like she can somehow read Chloe’s mind.

Palm flattening some against Beca’s lower back, Chloe allows her fingers to really explore, to move more quickly as they slip so easily through wet, swollen folds, spreading Beca further apart.

“God,” Beca whispers against her lips, the grip of her thigh tightening slightly as it rests against Chloe’s hip. Instinctively, Chloe lowers her hand until she can slide her finger experimentally into Beca’s dripping cunt. It really does not surprise her, the fact that Beca is already so damn wet, mostly because Chloe is exactly the same way. A soft moan falls against Chloe’s mouth as she pushes her finger deeper inside, until she is eventually sinking a second finger in, too. She feels the way Beca’s grip on her tightens, the way her body begins to tremble further the faster Chloe’s fingers sink the whole way in and back out in a gentle, steady rhythm. “Fuck, Chloe.”

If she’d thought hearing Beca moaning her name on video had been a turn on for her, it is nothing in comparison to hearing it right there against her lips, feeling Beca’s walls clenching desperately around her pulsing fingers. In return, Chloe cannot help her own soft whimper as her fingers move to slide through swollen folds all over again, spreading arousal over Beca’s sensitive clit.

It is incredibly hot, of course it is, but there is also something so beautiful about the sight of Beca coming undone beneath Chloe’s touch. The way her legs tremble and her arm grips more tightly onto Chloe to keep herself upright, the way Chloe has to hold onto her more tightly as Beca moans, unfiltered, through her orgasm, is just so incredibly _beautiful_. And God, Chloe did not expect this when she’d hurried to Beca’s room, she really hadn’t.

She had not expected to be coaxing Beca through an orgasm, feeling Beca’s arousal on her fingers as she’d begrudgingly pulled her hand from between her legs to instead wrap around her waist in an effort to help Beca remain upright as she moaned through her high.

As difficult as it is to stop kissing Beca, especially now Chloe has really gotten a taste of her, it makes it a little easier when she gets to bask in the no longer muffled sound of Beca’s soft whimpering echoing around the room. Chloe’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, sticky forehead resting against Beca’s, as Beca comes down from her euphoric high.

For once—for perhaps the first time in her life, in fact—Chloe finds that she is speechless. She doesn’t know what to say. That is okay, though. Maybe she doesn’t need to say anything, not with Beca holding onto her as tightly as she is, with the two of them soaking up Beca’s post-orgasm bliss so closely that they are practically one entity.

“Chlo,” Beca finally whispers through a shaky breath. Her eyes are closed, forehead still resting against Chloe’s, and Beca is evidently still trying to catch her breath.

“Yeah?” Chloe whispers in return.

“What about your Taylor tickets?”

Chloe cannot even help her reaction. She can’t help the soft, almost disbelieving giggle that spills from her lips, arm tightening some around Beca’s petite frame. “I’ll catch her next tour,” she chuckles quietly, fingers tightening on Beca’s still damp skin, “This was better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, [this is me](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com)!


End file.
